


Setting Different Goals

by KittyCay



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Basically very AU, Bran doesn't fall either, But this isn't the focus of the story like at all, Except for Jon, F/M, Female Reader, Like Theon but less prisoner-y, Rating may change if I add smut, Reader changes major plot points so Winterfell won't fall, Reader is accepted into House Stark, Reader is from the real world and wakes up in Westeros, Reader-Insert, Romance, Slow-ish burn, The Stark kids love reader as a sister, Who loves her differently lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-07-28 19:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7653271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyCay/pseuds/KittyCay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are an ordinary girl who wakes up outside of Winterfell one day. After taking you in, House Stark quickly falls in love with you and accepts you as their own. </p><p>You get along well with all of them, especially the House's bastard, Jon Snow. </p><p>A Jon Snow/Reader fic where Reader's involvement changes major plot points during Robert's visit to Winterfell. Slightly inspired by https://www.quotev.com/story/6989856/Strange-Noise-Jon-Snow-x-Reader</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Morning Reflection

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Strange Noise (Jon Snow x Reader)](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/218539) by Mayasha-Chan. 



> Hi everyone! Got disappointed with the lack of Jon Snow/Reader fics so I decided I'd just make my own. This was inspired by another fanfiction I read, but it won't be a continuation of it. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy! Please let me know if you catch any typos or have any other comme ts. :)

Daybreak began to show through the window of your room in Winterfell. As the sunlight drifted across the room and directly into your face, you grunted and gave up the futility of trying to continue sleeping. Yawning and sitting up, you gave your muscles a quick stretch. You knew it would be an important day, and it would be best to be wide awake as soon as possible.

Today was the day that King Robert Baratheon and his family visits Winterfell. The day that the whole castle had diligently prepared for for weeks. While King Robert was immensely close with Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, everyone knew that this was no excuse to slack with the accommodations. Even if the King himself would not be personally insulted with poor service, all of the castle knew that Lord Stark would be on his behalf. Fortunately, Eddard’s commitment to honor was contagious to the entirety of Winterfell, so there was rarely a disappointment to be found in any of the servants. And how could you even begin to express the importance of honor to the immediate Stark family? 

If anyone knew the Starks without being related to them, it would definitely be you. You remember when they found you almost a year ago, a strange girl with strange clothes and a strange way of speaking. No one knew what to do with you, but when they realized you were just a confused, frightened young lady, they honorably took you into their home and family. You quickly assimilated into their way of life, and captured their hearts and attention with your genuine kindness and intriguing foreign ways. 

Lord and Lady Stark were very impressed with your devotion to helping with the castle and family. You earned their respect as a caring person and hard-worker, and they openly accepted you as one of their own. The Stark children also were very eager to include you, if not more so than their parents. 

You remember how quickly Arya imprinted on you, with your independent attitude and willingness to strong despite being female. She would look to you for guidance, and often affirmation that women could easily be powerful. Sansa enjoyed you as well, for her own reasons. She admired your ladylike poise and self-control, and your proficiency in the arts. Little Rickon appreciated your sweetness and basked in the attention that you gave him. Bran learned to respect you due to your wit with him. Not only did you not complain about his sarcastic personality, but you returned it to him without malice. Robb respected your Stark-like honor and your clear devotion to the house. Theon very much resented how accepted you were by the Starks, but he never made a point of hurting you for it. 

And then there was the bastard, Jon Snow. You were fast friends, the two of you. Your huge heart rivalled his, and you enjoyed each other's company. There were times you could talk for hours until you were both scolded for not attending to your studies. You both had a mutual and deep understanding of the other, and knew that you could rely on each other.

“You'd best hurry up, ___, the King can't find you sleeping through his visit!” As if on cue, you heard Jon walking by your door to tease you. You huffed and walked up to the door to respond. 

“I'll be out soon enough, Jon, you can't rush looking perfect!”

Feeling satisfied with your sass, you turned back to face your room and get ready for the day.


	2. Different Goals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei questions you and you convince Jon not to go

King Robert's visit was just as grand a party as it was prepared to be. Similarly, the Lannisters were just as much of a handful as you heard they'd be. They were a condescending crowd, save for Tyrion Lannister. 

At one point during the feast, Queen Cersei had called you over to the Lords’ and Ladies’ table to ask you a few questions. You were instructed by the Starks to keep your otherworldly origins a secret, due to their fear you would be taken away by anyone with enough power and interest in you to do so. It didn't help that you were told that you were very pretty by many in Winterfell since your arrival. 

“Come here, please, my dear. Closer, now, I don't bite,” Cersei summoned you. You decided to make a mental note that she said that. 

“Your Grace.” You curtsied to the Queen as you were instructed to do before all of the King’s family. You also smiled genuinely to her, deciding to give her the benefit of any doubt you had. You knew it would be much easier on your sanity to do so anyway, rather than feign sincerity to someone you didn't like. 

“What is your name, sweet dove?” Cersei inquired, with a smile that seemed to not reach her eyes.

“My name is ___, Your Grace,” you told her, making sure to only say your first name.

“My, what a curious name you have!” Cersei pointed out, “And do you have a family name? Where are you from, ___?”

“No, Your Grace, I do not have any other name, at least that I can remember,” you lied, “Nor can I remember where I was from before I lived here, in Winterfell. I somehow lost my memories and can only remember waking up outside of this castle.”

“How mysterious you are,” the Queen responded, “And what a poor thing, with no family name nor true knowledge of where your home is. That must be difficult for you, I imagine.” Cersei smiled as if not only expecting but hoping that you would say your life had been difficult. 

“Oh yes, Your Grace, it has been a struggle in that regard. But the Starks,” you smiled and nodded to Lady Catelyn Stark, “have been immensely hospitable with me, and I am very grateful to them for that.”

“I'm sure that they have. Thank you for enduring my curiosity, my dear, you may go now.” You wondered how the Queen could manage to look both sweet and utterly tired of you at the same time. With a smile and another curtsey, you made your way back to the table you sat at with Jon and Theon. 

“Either that girl you have is of some noble birth or you Starks are much more efficient teachers than I would expect.” Cersei turned to Catelyn, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, it has been nearly a year that we've had her,” Catelyn remarked. Cersei huffed slightly, and turned her attention back to the rest of the hall. Desperately ignoring her husband's adulterous ways, she stared at you, laughing with Jon Snow and Theon Greyjoy. Cersei wondered how House Stark managed to gather so many strange, young people. 

~~~

After dinner, you and Jon had walked off by yourselves to talk, as you frequently did. The sun had long gone down, and it was a very brisk night. You settled by the large Weirwood tree, overlooking the glistening lake. Your favorite memories since you came to Westeros were mostly of your conversations with Jon in this very spot. 

“So, ___, how was Queen Cersei?” Jon began. Your smile was a bit strained as you turned to him, but became genuine as you both started laughing. “You have my sympathy,” he added. 

“Well, I don't think she was so bad,” you explained, “She just asked so many questions and it was hard for me to hide the truth. But hopefully I convinced her as long as I never have to speak to her again.”

“I'm sure that you would like that, wouldn't you?” Jon smirked, running his hands through his dark, curly hair. “At least it must have gone over better than any conversation with Jaime I've had.”

“He was giving you trouble today, wasn't he?”

“He just thinks that the Night's Watch isn't as honorable as I know it is.”

Your stomach twisted and you looked down. The conversation you always dreaded, how Jon wanted to become a member of the Night's Watch. You swallowed your pride and took a deep breath, then looked back to him.

“I… I don't want you to join the Night’s Watch.” You felt nervous and guilty for protesting against what he wanted. 

“Why? I thought you were happy for me?” Jon looked genuinely confused, and obviously surprised. 

“I was and I am, of course I would be happy for you. I just, don't want to lose my best friend. In the short time that I've been here in Westeros, you've made me feel like I belong. You and your family, but we're so close. How could I want to say goodbye to you forever?” Your eyes became misty, and your voice strained. Jon merely chuckled, looking toward the lake.

“How on Earth could a bastard make someone feel like they belong?” He wondered, remorsefully. You balled your fists and began to not only feel upset, but look that way as well. 

“I don't care if you're a bastard, and neither should you!” Jon, turned back to you, shocked. “Why does it even matter who your parents are, or what their relationship was? Are you really just going to let yourself be as good as your parents? Despite the fact that you have the biggest heart of anyone I've ever met? Where I come from, bastards aren't anything to be ashamed of, because people are as good as they act! And you are honestly the best person I know. Bastard or not. It never mattered to me!”

Jon stayed quiet, clearly affected by your words. You took another deep breath and calmed down a bit. 

“And besides,” you finished, “you promised you would teach me how to swordfight sometime.” 

Jon finally turned to you, smiling. He started to laugh, and surprisingly very happy for once. This made you smile with him, glad that you said something capable of moving him this much. 

“Well,” he finally breathed, “I suppose there is no way that I can allow myself to go now. And even if I did, I doubt you'd allow me to leave Winterfell.”

“I'd follow you all the way to the Wall if I had to, and keep telling you not to leave.”

“Don't worry, ___, I believe you.” Jon smiled at you again. “I’ll just tell my uncle Benjen that I've decided against joining the Watch.”

“I'm sorry that I've made you give up your goal,” you sighed, beginning to feel guilty again. Jon shook his head at you. 

“Don't be. I only wanted to do it to have somewhere to belong. Clearly I shouldn't have thought I'd need to go further North for that.” Happiness returned to your face as he said that. “I suppose I'll just have to set different goals for myself.”

“And what goals would those be?” you inquired, interested in what else he would want to do.

“That,” he grinned, “is for me to know, and everyone else to find out.”


	3. No Climbing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader fucks with another major plot point to establish the AU setting for the fic

The second day of King Robert's visit was less formal, and much of the castle had felt more normal. Jon told his uncle that he decided against joining the Night's Watch, which Benjen understood entirely. You and Jon decided to spend a large portion of the day training his new direwolf pup, Ghost.

Jon's continuous commands of “Come, Ghost,” and “Sit, Ghost,” etc. were met with very quick success. The young direwolf had already become loyal to Jon, and would even listen to you sometimes to appease him. 

“I can tell he must like you,” Jon noted, as the two of you gave Ghost some treats for obedience.

“I imagine it's only because you want him to,” you replied coyly. 

“Well, I'm certain that he would like you even if I wasn't around.”

“I certainly hope so.”

After training Ghost for around an hour longer, you returned him to his spot in the kennel. Returning from inside of the building and into the courtyard, you both noticed Sansa talking with Prince Joffrey, who even you knew was rather unpleasant. You faced Jon as you continued strolling, and spoke to him with a hushed tone. 

“Do you worry about her?” 

“Of course I do,” Jon told you, “She's family. I don't want to see her get into any trouble.”

“Well, I'll be sure to talk to her. And make sure she knows what their parents are getting them into.” You felt grief that most people in Westeros could not marry who or when they wanted, or even understand how the situation worked until it was already happening. 

“Don't worry so much about it, ___. It shouldn't prove to be the end of the world.” Ironically, Jon the Worryer, as you called him, was telling you this. 

“It's just so difficult getting used to Westeros,” you explained to him, “Where I'm from, this wouldn't need to happen. Everyone chooses who they marry, and I'm nearly positive that you have to be at least 18 years old in order to legally wed each other.” Upon hearing this, Jon looked at you in shock. 

“Everyone who gets married must be that old?”

“Yes, and even if I'm wrong and you can marry younger, everyone waits that long, or longer, anyway,” you stated matter-of-factly. “And believe it or not, but there's much more people there than in Westeros, despite marrying and having children later in life.” Jon laughed, his face wearing a dubious expression. 

“Sometimes I wonder if you just make all of this up, just to mess with me.”

“Well maybe I will some time, just to get back at your doubting me.”

As you shifted your attention from Jon to your surroundings, you noticed movement along the top of the castle. Of course, it was Bran up to his usual antics. You strided over to the ground below him, with Jon trailing closely behind. You saw Bran’s young dire wolf, Summer staring up at him and following his every move with his eyes. 

“Bran, could you come down here for a moment, please?” You asked politely. Bran steadied himself and looked below at you two. 

“Why?”

You internally groaned at his curt and sassy response. 

“Because I have something important I need to talk to you about. Please?”

Bran huffed and obediently climbed down from his temporary perch. Landing carefully on the ground, he walked up to you and Jon, looking at you with his usual blank stare. 

“Now, Bran, you know that I normally don't hassel you about your climbing-” Bran huffed and rolled his eyes, tired of being lectured about this, “but just for Kimg Robert's visit, will you please refrain from it? Your parents are already very worried abot many thing right now, and I know that they would appreciate one less thing to occupy themselves with.” Your request was respectful and polite, and Bran was relieved to not be nagged at for once. It also helped that Bran adored you and Jon. 

“Fine, but just for King Robert's visit,” Bran agreed. You grinned at him, satisfied that he was able to accept your terms. 

“I promise, I won't bother you about it once he's gone.”

Bran nodded and scurried off with Summer closely following. Jon smiled at you, impressed with your persuasion abilities with Bran.


	4. Sisters and Swordfighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You talk to the Stark girls the night before they leave for King's Landing and then almost get fresh with Jon. Kind of.

The last night of the visit, you decided to have a final talk with Sansa. You weren't sure when you would ever see her again, but you did know that she was extremely naïve. Either way, you saw her as a sister and wanted her to be as safe as possible.

You approached her chamber's doors and gave them a soft knock. 

“Come in,” Sansa instructed, her voice muffled through the doors. You walked into the room as she noticed you and beamed. Your face took on a soft, caring smile as you mentally prepared yourself for your talk. 

“___! Did you need something?” Sansa affectionately asked. You nodded your head.

“Yes, I actually wanted to talk with you before you left for King's Landing tomorrow.”

“Talk with me about what?”

“Well,” you began, “I, naturally, am worried about you.” Sansa looked at you, confused. 

“Why should you be worried? I'll be Joffrey’s princess soon, and he and my father will protect me.”

“Sansa, I know that you're happy, and that makes everyone in Winterfell happy. But you must remember, King's Landing and everyone there are dangerous. Please promise me that you will constantly be careful, and not fully trust anyone that isn't from Winterfell.” Sansa met your worry with a touched smile.

“While I think you're worrying too much, I promise.”

The two of you embraced and you told Sansa that you were going to miss her. As you left her room, you ran into Arya, who looked up at you, upset. She took a breath and opened her mouth to speak. 

“I don't want to go to King's Landing, I want to stay here in Winterfell with you and my family.”

You gazed at the young girl compassionately. You couldn't imagine how hard it must be for her, to leave her home for a strange, scary city for who knew how long. Kneeling down, you looked her in the eye. 

“I know that you must be unhappy. I know that I would be. But you must be strong. We don't get to pick what happens to us in life, but we get to choose how we react to it. When you react, be brave. And don't let anyone hurt you.”

Arya nodded at you, determined to make you proud. You stood up and put a hand on her shoulder.

“I’ll miss you, little warrior,” you teased with a kind, sisterly tone. She giggled and hugged you. 

“I'll miss you too.” 

After freeing you from her embrace, she ran off to her chamber to sleep. You laughed softly to yourself, watching her leave. Turning around, you made your way to your door and entered your own chamber. However, you quickly noticed that someone was already inside. You panicked for a moment, until your vision settled on their features.

“Jon! How scandalous for you to be in my chambers!” you teased. In all honesty, you didn't mind, and he knew you didn't. You had your suspicions that he minded, though.

“I wanted to speak with you,” Jon told you as he blushed, apparently embarrassed by the situation, as you expected. You gave an amused sigh.

“What do you need?”

“Well, you know how I decided to make new goals for myself, and… I want to teach you how to swordfight. Since you wanted me to teach you anyway.”

“How sweet of you,” you were sincere in your statement, “But, why now? And why here?” Jon's blush, which had disappeared, promptly returned.

“I understand that this must seem… odd. But I wasn't sure how people would react to me teaching you, you see. So, as strange as this is, I decided it would be the best to, at least, start this way.”

You raised an eyebrow and chuckled. Then, after taking a breath, you strided towards him.

“Alright. So tell me how to start.”

Jon gently handed you a sword. You held it with caution, half-expecting yourself to instantly injure something or someone with your lack of experience.

“First, we need to begin with your stance,” Jon stated. You stood with your legs apart, but not too far from each other, and arms holding the sword in front of you. 

“Good start,” Jon murmured to you, then moved in closer to adjust your pose slightly. He placed a hand on your back, slightly moving it. “That's right, back straight like that.”

Then he put his other hand on your knee, guiding you further. “Now bend your legs a bit more like this.” You could slightly feel his breath as he quietly spoke to you. Your stomach was starting twist as you realized how intimate the two of you were acting. You wondered if Jon felt this as well, if he read into the situation as much as you were. 

“And then, move your arms over here and bend them this way.” If you were nervous before, you were practically dead now. Jon had moved behind you, pressed against your back and guiding your arms along his as they came forward from behind you. His head was next to yours, just above your shoulder. You realized how Jon was practically hugging you, which wouldn’t normally mean much you, but you knew that physical contact was more serious in Westeros than where you came from. Your heart was beating wildly and you thought you could feel his beating just as fast. 

You looked at Jon, your face barely not touching his. You saw him blushing just as furiously as you felt yourself do, but he looked like his focus on adjusting your stance was partially distracting him. He turned his gaze to you, and full embarrassment took over his face. He backed away from you, as to be polite. You felt slight disappointment but attempted to remain professional, maintaining your stance.

“Perfect, ___. We can leave it at this for the first lesson, I'll start coming a bit earlier from now on. Is tomorrow night okay?” Jon’s speech was just a bit to quick and shaky. You relaxed and gave him a slightly awkward smile.

“Yeah, yeah, tomorrow night should be fine.”

“Great! And, erm, by the way, that's your sword now, keep it here. I had it made because I told the smith that I needed one to replace mine. So no one will think a sword is missing. And it looks just like mine so people won't wonder why I'm using my old one if anyone knows about yours.”

“The perfect crime,” you smirked, “you really thought this out, didn't you?”

“I just wanted us to be able to take this seriously,” he seemed happy with himself, which made you grin.

“I'll try to make you proud, then.”

“I know you will.” Jon told you just before leaving your room.


	5. Laundry Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the guests gone, you get back to work.

After a teary goodbye to Eddard, Sansa, and Arya (and a much less teary goodbye to the Lannisters) the King's party left for King's Landing. You genuinely didn't have any idea when you would ever see any of them again. No one that you had ever known in Westeros had left like this before. Thinking back to your life before, you felt spoiled by technology. There was less worry about safety and if you would ever talk to them again. Now you were facing the harsh reality of simpler times, and felt concern for the departing Starks.

You looked to the rest of the Starks to see if you were overreacting. All of them, especially Rickon and Catelyn, seemed sorrowful. You couldn't visibly notice any signs of outright concern, however, and decided maybe it was merely something you would learn to get used to. 

When the party was out of sight, everyone continued to their work around Winterfell. Your position was that of a glorified servant or handmaiden. You didn't have very distinct jobs to do, and you didn't necessarily have to do them, but you always felt the need to help out.

Today, you would be helping to clean the Starks’ laundry. You were wearing your work clothes today, now that you didn't have to wear something fancy for the crown. It was a simple dress and apron, nothing hideous, but it was much more easy and comfortable to wear. 

As you went room to room gathering any dirty clothes that you could find, you ran into Jon again in the hallway.

“My, Jon, I'm beginning to think you're following me,” you giggled. Jon's face instantly became embarrassed and shy, almost to the extent of the previous night. He cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“I… apologize if I make you feel this way.” Jon's apology amused you. He never ceased to amaze you with his purity.

“Oh, Jon, I was only joking, don't worry so much.” 

Jon relaxed a bit and noticed the large basket of laundry that you had been holding. 

“Would you like any help with that?”

“I would appreciate it, but wouldn't that look strange if anyone saw? You're of higher standing than me, and how would it appear to others if you were doing chores?” Not that you minded, however you were unsure about the social implications under these circumstances. You didn't want to have Jon help you only for it to look demeaning on his behalf.

“Not much stranger than you doing the chores, ___. Everyone knows I'm different, not as noble as the Starks. Plus it would only look like I'm helping you.”

You felt appeased by this answer and allowed him to carry the basket for you, since he did seem so eager, after all. As you held the basket out a bit to hand it off to him, one of his hands accidentally touched yours. His hand was larger and rougher than yours, but he touched you delicately and with care. That is, until he realized what he was doing and quickly moved his hand to a respectful distance away from yours. Your heart rate had increased and your mind went blank for a moment, but you pretended not to care in order to prevent Jon from feeling guilty. 

Once he had a hold of the basket, you let go and felt that it had been long enough that you could meet his eyes again. Clearing your throat, you decided to make conversation as the two of you walked toward the washing room.

“So,” you opened with, “I don't understand why you have to be so formal with the Starks. I understand it to some extent, I suppose, but why do you have to pretend that you're not one of them?”

“___. If what you told me about where you come from is true, in regards to bastards, then I don't know if one can expect you to understand.” Jon's response would have likely been interpreted as cold by anyone except for you. “Your kind heart is very touching but it would be shameful for me to act as though I am one of them.”

You felt remorse for him, as you could tell that all he wanted was to be fully accepted and not just treated like you, an outsider. Biting your lip, you felt compelled to reassure him.

“You know that I regard you in the highest honor that I can, and to me, you're a true Stark.”

“I know. That means a great deal to me.” Jon’s countenance had become less solemn, and you congratulated yourself for perking him up a bit. 

“I'm glad we can talk to each other like this,” you expressed to him. You hoped that the two of you would always be close.

“I'm glad too.”

Just a few moments after he said this, you both approached the doorway to the washing room. You gently got a hold of the basket of dirty clothes, softly smiling up at him. 

“Thank you very much for your help, Jon.” He matched your expression as he let go of the basket. You were a bit disappointed that your hands did not touch this time.

“Thank you very much for talking with me, ___.”

You watched him as he turned and walked away, examining him. You never really paid attention to how powerful he looks. Feeling your face turn red, you shook away the thought and entered the room to get to work. 

As you diligently began scrubbing at the clothes, you couldn't help but think fondly of Jon.


	6. Bedtime Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You tell Rickon a bedtime story and he makes it awkward for you and Jon

You asked Jon that evening if you could skip sword practice for the day. You wanted to spend it telling bedtime stories to Rickon instead. 

Rickon had been having an extremely difficult time with so much of his family gone. You felt sorry just thinking of how it must feel, and wanted to help him relax a bit. Of course, Jon couldn't say no to cancelling for this, and wanted to tag along.

You approached Rickon’s door, and gave it a gentle couple of knocks.

“Rickon,” you tenderly called through the door, “it's ___ and Jon.”

Rather than the usual “come in” one usually gets, you were startled as you heard the little boy hurry over to the door and open it himself. You looked down and saw him, meeting your gaze with large eyes and a tearstained face. As soon as you noticed his apparent mood, you knelt down and put your hands on his shoulders. 

“Rickon, dear, would you like for us to spend some time with you?” Rickon nodded his head yes and moved so you and Jon would be able to enter the room. 

“Alright, climb into bed and I'll tell you a bedtime story.”

Rickon’s face lit up excitedly and he got under his blankets as rapidly as he possibly could. Getting into a comfortable position for sleeping, he smiled at you, ready to hear the story. You couldn't help but smile yourself, seeing how much better the child looked already. Sitting on a chair nearby his bed, you cleared your throat.

“This story I'm about to tell you is called ‘The Little Mermaid.’”

Rickon looked clearly invested already, and you hoped there weren't any stories in Westeros similar to this one. You decided to tell him the Disney version, and not the gruesome original version. He was already beginning to cheer up, and you couldn't let yourself squander that. You also hadn't prepared very much, so you hoped that your recount of the movie would be as entertaining as possible.

“Once upon a time, there was a young mermaid named Ariel…”

You began to spin the tale of Ariel, the curious mermaid who was enamoured with the human world. You told him all about how she traded her voice for a pair of legs, and wanted to make Prince Eric fall in love with her. You described the downfall of Ursula the sea witch with excitement and action, and the resolution of the story like a blissful reflection on a memory. Which, to be fair, it was from your memory of a movie. 

By the end of the story, Rickon was very drowsy, but not yet asleep. He looked at you with tired eyes. 

“___, you're just like Ariel,” he murmured. 

“What do you mean?” You were caught off guard by his statement, but your curiosity was piqued.

“You came from a different world than ours, and now you're happy living with us.” You thought that his exhausted smile was adorable, and you giggled at his analogy.

“I suppose that's true, isn't it?”

“Yeah, and Jon can be like the prince…” Rickon trailed off as he finally fell asleep. 

You sat up straight, surprised even more by this statement than his last one. Your face felt hot and you quickly looked next to you, at Jon. He had been quiet this whole time, allowing you to tell your story, but now he was quiet out of a loss for words. 

You faced Rickon again, giving him a brief, soft kiss and wishing him good night. Jon followed suit and the two of you left Rickon’s chambers.

Once out in the hallway, the two of you awkwardly looked at each other. Jon gave a small cough, clearing his throat. 

“I apologize if coming with you made you uncomfortable.” You couldn't help but feel your thoughts wander with the phrasing he used. You started to imagine Jon on top of you, with his powerful arms around you. You thought of how you would wrap your arms around his muscular torso-

“___?”

Jon shook you out of your imagination land, and you felt even more embarrassed than before. He seemed as though took your silence as a yes. Feeling totally guilty, you reassuringly put a hand on his arm, almost getting distracted again by how you suddenly wanted to caress it. 

“Jon, you- I don't think you could ever make me uncomfortable,” you responded. You were so tempted to do something risky, like kissing him. Passion and affection for Jon were running rampant throughout your body, and all you wanted was to act on it, in a spur of the moment. However, just because Jon didn't make you uncomfortable didn't give you the right to make him uncomfortable, in your opinion. You brought your hand away from his arm respectfully. 

“Thank you, ___.”

“I, uh, I should get some sleep,” you told him softly, not wanting to cause any more embarrassment for yourself. 

“I should as well. Good night, ___.”

“Good night, Jon.”

You left to make your way to your room, wanting nothing more than to abruptly invite Jon to come with you. Your feelings for him were growing dramatically every day. You wondered when you fell so deeply in love with him.


	7. Defending Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon gets all creepy and Jon gets jelly.

You were walking around, doing your usual odd jobs one morning. You could still feel the ache in your heart for Jon that you began feeling since what felt like both forever ago and yesterday. Your sense of longing for the dark, brooding bastard was wearing you down emotionally. Just imagining his face made your heart leap, and thinking of his voice brought a bright, sincere smile to your face. 

As you passed by the kennels, a familiar voice caught your ear. It wasn't Jon's, but upon further investigation, you heard it was Theon’s. Deciding to eavesdrop, you noticed he was talking with a few of the wards that worked along the both of you in Winterfell. 

“-wasn't very impressive, I'd been with better girls.”

You rolled your eyes. Typical Theon, you knew he loved himself some women.

“What about ___? Have you ever gotten under her dress?” you heard a ward inquire. Your face froze and instantly you were much more drawn to and disgusted by the conversation. 

“___? No. But I wouldn't mind that. She has some nice, round tits. Large and firm ass, too, you can tell under her dress,” Theon confidently described. You were sweating bullets and growing immensely uncomfortable. You wanted to turn around the corner, right then and there, and confront the whole lot of them. But you knew they wouldn't take you seriously, you were just some lowborn girl to them, you had no fancy name to back you up.

“What are you talking about?” a stern, gruff voice demanded to know. 

You froze again, recognizing the voice as Jon's. You wondered how he reacted to Theon’s words, if he heard them. You never knew Theon thought about your body like that. Did Jon also secretly feel the same way? You hoped he found you attractive in this manner, but did he objectify you? It was so hard for you to tell in Westeros. 

“Oh, Jon!” Theon greeted. “You spend a great deal of time with ___. What do you think of how she looks? Nice tits, right? You gotten a chance to see them yet?” You shuddered with anticipation, waiting to hear how Jon would respond.

“Don't you fucking talk about her that way,” Jon commanded, quietly yet powerfully. 

You were touched. As if Jon knew you were listening, he defended you. The familiar swell of emotions was beginning to form in your stomach and chest as you continued to listen. 

“What? Don't tell me, you've been fucking her and now you don't want other men looking at her tits?” Theon's tone was antagonistic and challenging, nothing short of normal for him. 

Suddenly, you heard a loud thump, followed by Theon grunting. Then, heavy footsteps headed in your direction. Panicking, you pressed yourself against the closest wall, knowing it wouldn't help at all but lacking any instant options. As the footsteps reached the corner where you were hiding behind, you took a quick breath, hoping it wasn't one of the creepy guys you just listened to. 

When you saw Jon walk by instead of a ward, you breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Jon,” you called. He turned around, surprised to hear your voice. 

“You didn't… hear what just happened, did you?” Jon asked you, with apparent concern in his voice. You smiled softly at him, nodding.

“Shit, ___, I am so sorry that you had to hear them talk about you in that way,” he stumbled to apologize. You shook your head. 

“Jon,” you began with a sweet voice. 

“Yes?”

“You're a real gentleman,” you told him, bringing a hand up to his cheek briefly. He laughed breathily and quietly, smiling back at you. Then he cleared his throat. 

“Well, I believe we should get out of here before Theon returns the blow to the stomach I gave him.”

“I agree,” you grinned. 

As the two of you walked further away from the scene of the crime, you decided to push your luck slightly. 

“I am appreciative that you wanted to defend my honor, but you can't punch every guy to talk about my breasts.” Jon chuckled at your statement.

“And why is that?”

“Well, I mean, I imagine that lots of guys talk about them. Wouldn't it be too much effort to hunt down and beat them all up?” You feigned innocence, wanting to see if he would get jealous from your words. 

“___, what are you going on about?” You thought you could already see hints of jealousness in his face, but it might have been out of your hope to see them. 

“Well, lots of the young men in Winterfell talk to me, I'm sure at least some of them like me, right?”

“I, I suppose so. But, I wouldn't know,” Jon responded, looking at the ground. “Is it that you're looking for a husband?”

You were basking in the nervousness in his voice, let alone the question he just presented you with. He was completely interested in you. He had to be, right? Calming down, you shifted your attention to answering. 

“Perhaps, as long as a nice young man politely asked me to be his wife. And then proved that he loves me through courtly love, or something. Doing things to profess his love, so I would know that he would be serious. You know, since marriage takes longer to work up to where I'm from. Lots of people don't get married for years after finding someone, but I wouldn't be that picky here in Westeros. All I would need is some way to know how much they care for me and that they'd be good to me.”

You looked to Jon, who nodded slightly. You were curious to know what he was thinking about, if he was affected by what you said. 

“Either way, I'd better get back to work. Thank you again for punching Theon on my behalf,” you told him as you excused yourself. 

“Of course, ___. I would be more than willing to do it for you again,” Jon replied as you departed.


	8. Weirwood and Chill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Jon finally go in for the kiss. I tired to make the burn as slow as possible while the plot only consisted of the romance and I hope it's satisfactory. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

It was a cloudy night, and you felt restless. Laying in your bed, you stared at the ceiling of your chamber, eyes wide open and a bit dry-feeling. You weren't sure why, but you couldn't feel tired enough to sleep no matter how hard you tried. Sighing defeatedly and climbing out of bed, you got dressed in some warm clothes, along with your sword for extra precaution. It didn't seem too late for a walk in your mind, and you weren't getting sleep whether you stayed in bed or left. 

Walking out to the Weirwood tree always helped you clear your head, and you hoped tonight wouldn't be an exception. You didn't know what it was that drew you to Weirwoods. They seemed comforting to you, like a grandparent watching over you and making you feel safe. They were the closest thing to magic you ever experienced so far in your entire life.

When you finally reached the tree overlooking the lake, you sat down. Easing your back against the firm bark of the Weirwood, you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing. Tuning out the rest of the world felt so effortless in Winterfell. It was a calm, quiet community, especially compared to the world you were once used to. 

After being immersed in the silence that surrounded you, you were jolted by the sound of footsteps subtly crushing into the ground. Your eyes shot open, and you instinctively grabbed your sword. Drawing it fiercely, you turned to threaten your possible opponent. Then, after seeing them, you put it away. 

“Glad to see you're making use of our lessons in swordplay,” Jon breathed with a chuckle.

“Glad to be learning from a skilled swordsman,” you replied, wanting to subliminally flirt with him. You tucked some hair behind your ear, not quite sure what else to say. 

“May I sit with you, ___?”

“Of course, Jon. You know you don't need to ask.”

Jon lowered himself against the tree, a respectful distance away from you. You were so tired of his respectfulness. It made you love him more yet it infuriated you. You wanted to act impetuously, closing the distance and jumping on him passionately. You might have done it, except for the fear of Jon viewing you as some untame whore. The lack of casual intimacy in Westeros was wearing down on you increasingly. 

“So, ___, what brings you out of your chambers so late at night?” Jon questioned. Your eyes lingered on his lips as he finished speaking. 

“I should ask you the same, Jon. Following a poor, defenseless young girl into the Godswood. Stalking her and just waiting for your chance to pounce,” you challenged. 

You were a bit taken off guard when Jon didn't wear his common expression of embarrassment. Instead he laughed, then smiled without taking his eyes off of yours. 

“Have any young men asked you to marry them yet?” Jon asked forwardly. You felt heat rise on your face and you looked away briefly. How was he able to not only resist your teasing but in the same moment turn the tables? 

“Well, no, but I'm sure countless men are considering it nonetheless,” you joked, feigning stubbornness. 

“I'm sure they are,” Jon murmured. 

The air felt electric. Your heart beat was accelerating and you looked at the face you had grown to helplessly love. Your soul ached to know if he felt the same way about your face. 

“And what about you, Jon? When are you going to get married? All I can do is wait, but you can take action and pursue any woman you want to. You're lucky to be a bastard in that regard. Your family won't use you for alliances, and your heart is free to choose a wife.”

He inched a bit closer to you, elevating the sensuality of the moment. You did the same, until your faces were very close, but not close enough for you to justify kissing him just yet. 

“Maybe I already have a woman I want to be my wife,” Jon said softly. You could slightly feel his breath on your face as he spoke. You scooted closer until your noses practically touched. 

“You have a good home, handsome looks, and a genuinely sweet heart. Any woman would jump at you given the chance. What are you waiting for?” You became lost in his dark eyes as your whole body stirred with emotion. 

“You're right, ___. What am I waiting for?”

Jon passionately pressed his mouth to yours, and you felt the yearning for him begin to feel satisfied. Questions you often had about him were finally being answered, discoveries being made. You wrapped your arms around him, hands searching his back. Your balance crumbled as he fell on top of you, but the two of you refused to interrupt your kissing. The two of you messed up each others’ hair and clothes, not worrying about how disheveled you looked.

Finally breaking from the embrace, you smiled at Jon. 

“Isn't there something you want to ask me?” you whispered to him. To your shock, Jon shook his head. 

“Not yet. I want to prove to you how much I love you before I ask you to marry me, like you said.”

You felt frustrated with yourself for making an essentially off-hand comment to Jon about being courted. You wanted to marry him, but you knew you should find out if it was mostly infatuation. Plus, Jon would be going out of his way to profess his love to you, which you very much would’ve liked to see. Grinning up at him, you nodded understandingly. 

“You truly are quite the gentleman, Jon Snow. I don't know how I ever managed to make you fall in love with me.”

“You didn't have to make me. I love you for everything you are. And my next goal is to make you my wife,” Jon tenderly stated as he caressed your cheek. 

The two of you shared a final, loving kiss before making your way back to your own beds and finding sleep for the night.


End file.
